


oh how i meant to tease him, oh how i meant no harm

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Greg House, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Gay James Wilson, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Season/Series 02, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26826763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Wilson's life takes an unexpected turn when people questioning his sexuality paired with living with House makes him realize he may be, after all, gay.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 234
Collections: Gen Prompt Bingo Round 18





	oh how i meant to tease him, oh how i meant no harm

**Author's Note:**

> **gen prompt bingo:** awkwardness
> 
> inspired by _the predatory wasp of the palisades is out to get us!_ by sufjan stevens; the title is from that song, too.
> 
> enjoy!

Wilson can't help but be ashamed every time someone thinks of them as being _together_.

There's a logical part of him that knows being gay is okay. Being gay, bisexual, a lesbian or transgender is _just fine_. But, for some reason he can't manage to get out of his brain beyond weird vagueness, being gay or bisexual himself is just plain wrong. Like a suit that doesn't fit right, shoes that are a bit too small, just enough to notice that it hurts to walk on them.

He really is trying to figure out what's going on with him. It took until his second divorce to realize there was something wrong.

He could easily chalk up the way his relationship with Sam fizzled out as _youth_ and _what happens when two people in their early-mid twenties try to get married_. Things are bound to go wrong; that's what everyone told him. That he should wait a little to get settled down, not marry the first woman he sees.

So he married the second woman he sees. Bonnie. She was nice, she was damaged, she kissed him and made love to him sweet and raw and it was all okay. He went to House, he talked with him, and their friendship went on, sweet and raw, and it was all okay. It was all just _okay_. He had lived in a constant state of _just okay_ since he had memory. His life was a long line of fine. The only times he felt anything akin to genuine happiness is with House, and he doesn't feel like picking that apart.

Until House's infarction happened. Until he spent all his time taking care of him, comforting him after Stacy left him while he's in pain, newly disabled and trying to get used to it. 

"Are you gay?" Bonnie asked when she handed him the divorce papers.

It felt like an anomaly, but it also felt like she had stared through his soul. Like he had somehow been discovered for a secret even he didn't know he was keeping.

"N-No!" he had exclaimed. "What? No! I'm not gay!"

She had looked at him incredulously, but she had dropped the subject, simply went on with the papers and what they meant for them, if they could remain friends after all was said and done.

His marriage with Julie was okay, almost. It was just as lackluster, but it was _alright_. They talked and kissed and had sex, he drank a little too much and went to a therapist, took his antidepressants and tried to ignore why it was that he was depressed. Not even forty and he was already ruining his third marriage. He needed to stop doing this.

Bonnie's question kept bothering him, always, at the back of his mind. He'd asked her about it once, while out for dinner to discuss life as they moved on. 

"Oh!" she had laughed softly. "I'm sorry for asking that, still. It's just that... you were paying so much attention to House, you know, so I couldn't help but... wonder if you were, y'know..."

"He's my friend," he had replied, a bit more defensively than he'd like. "Of course I was paying attention to him. He had just lost a _chunk_ of his _leg_."

Bonnie's gaze softened, then. It felt like she was looking at a wounded deer. He didn't like it. It felt like she was pitying him, like she knew something he didn't.

"Of course," she said. "That's understandable. I get it, James."

His marriage with Julie was okay, almost. It was just as lackluster. House joked about him cheating on Julie, but he didn't, really— he was simply looking for something, something that would fix whatever his _issue_ was. Because he wasn't supposed to burn through marriages like they were cigarettes, like he knew he had lung cancer and was simply taking another drag just for the Hell of it.

And then she told him she was cheating on him, and things made a little bit of sense, then. Maybe he just kept choosing the wrong women to date and fall for and marry. Maybe one day he'd get the _perfect woman_ , the woman who would stay with him for the rest of his days. Who would make all his issues melt away.

It didn't matter now, though. Now he had to go through the divorce and he had to live somewhere else for the time being. Thus, that's why he's here now— living with House.

He, at first, thought it'd be fine. But living in close quarters with House is like pulling teeth. He can't quite tell why. Of course, he's a bit of a slob; he doesn't do the dishes, refuses to do them. So he finds himself doing them. It's fine, though; there's something about the situation that takes him back, makes him feel wrong all over.

It may be seeing House only in his boxers and ratty old t-shirt he uses to sleep. It's not _appropriate_. It makes him feel like he's ogling him. He's not sure why.

It all goes back to Bonnie's comment, over a year ago. _You were paying so much attention to House._

He pushes forward, though. He tries to.

House is pushing him toward pranking him, he can tell, so he indulges him. It's one of the few ways they'll get over this slump in their friendship, how he'll _maybe_ do the dishes before he leaves his place.

House falls onto the floor and he turns to him, tries not to smile.

"Wow," he says, tone flat, "it's like _someone_ filed through your cane while you were sleeping."

Embarrassingly, perhaps, is how all his certainty on his sexuality dissipates when House laughs softly at him pranking him. That certainty he's held so close to him, like an excuse, like a _this is just how everyone feels for their friends_ , evaporates as soon as he smiles, so adoringly it makes him weak in the knees.

He walks away from him. He has to. 

The realization that, perhaps, he is not all that straight, is even worse now that he's aware that Bonnie was, at least in some part, right. That it's because of House that he's realized. He finds himself staring at him throughout the day, even after he moves out and gets his own apartment.

People make jokes about them. People wonder and ask, _hey are those two guys together_ , and it makes him recoil, as if hit. Something about it makes it feel like they _know_ , like they can see through his soul and know that he's fighting the primal urge to figure himself out. 

"Because you're a closet case?" House's patient with AIDS had asked, tilting his head.

Even before this, even before it all came crashing down, he felt the need to defend himself. He had stuttered and said, "We're not — together."

Even worse was how House didn't deny his patient's accusations, but rather played into them. He'd scoffed, "He is _so_ self loathing."

Is House just that comfortable with him? Or is he enough of a genius to know that his best friend is gay before even he knew? That wouldn't make sense, though. If he was aware, he would crack more jokes, or try to push him into coming to terms with himself. But he hasn't done that now, has he?

One day, he feels like he has to tell House. Maybe that'll make it not as horrible. Maybe he won't feel like he's being creepy simply by smiling at him, overthinking every single part of his being, of their interactions. It stings, to not be comfortable with House anymore. He's sure he has noticed how he's recoiled away from him, every passing minute, the way he doesn't want to spend time with him anymore.

"House," he tells him, hovering over the door to his office. "Could I talk to you for a second?"

House raises a brow. "Sure, why not?" he asks. "Not trying to save a life or anything."

He knows he doesn't mean it, so he walks into his office and closes the door, looks around like he's waiting for a camera or for someone to be staring at him. There's nothing, though. He's safe. He's safe, he tells himself, over and over again, like that would make everything be okay. But it wasn't.

"I need to... to tell you something," he says.

House tilts his head. "I'm all ears."

He swallows. Counts to ten in his head. Is this really a good idea? Is he making a horrible decision here? Is he dooming his only friendship? He'll find another best friend, maybe. He won't mess it up next time around. He won't fall for him. He will keel everything locked up, will shut his mouth before it all crumbles.

He doesn't want to ruin friendship after friendship. Suddenly, that odd feeling from being in a locker room with other high school boys makes sense.

"I think I'm gay," he says. The sentence, that simple sentence, feels like pulling teeth.

House stares at him for a second like he's grown a second head. It makes him recoil, but then House lights up like he's come to an incredible conclusion.

"Oh," he says, quietly. "Is that why you stopped talking to me as much?"

He makes a little noise of affirmation. "Yeah," he says. "I'm... I was... I just felt weird about being around you. Probably because Bonnie accused me of being into you, so i just..."

"Well, _are_ you?" he pipes up.

Wilson shrivels up at that, recoils as if he's been hit. "...Maybe," he says slowly, like admitting it would kill him. "Are you... is that okay with you? I'm sorry if I—"

"Of course it's okay with me;" House says, rather flippantly. He stares at him, and House stares at him right back, before softening. "I'm bisexual, you idiot. I just never felt like I should tell you unless I got a good, funny moment to tell you, like if I slept with a guy half my age or something of the sort, or slept with Chase." He hums. "Anyway, yes, of course I'm okay with it."

"Oh," Wilson says. "Well, I feel like an idiot now."

"Yeah, I'm sure having the predatory-gay-man idea while being best friends with a bi guy doesn't turn out well," he says dryly. "But hey, it's okay. If you wanna bang, I wanna bang."

Wilson freezes up.

"Oh, right. You're still in the uh, internalized homophobia and repression part of realizing you're into guys. If you'd rather keep things PG, I can just kiss you."

Wilson swallows. "Maybe that'd be okay," he says, sounding like he may die if he looks at House for longer.

House straightens up on his chair, but doesn't get up. "Give your cripple friend a chance to enjoy the kiss," he says, although it's obvious he's joking.

Wilson laughs softly and manages to relax. He walks over to him and bends down a little. He doubts for a few seconds, staring at House, at his beautiful blue eyes, and he's hit with full force just how right Bonnie was. God, he owes all of his ex-wives an extensive apology.

"Come on," House groans and grabs him by his chin, pulling him into stumbling forward and pressing his lips against his. Wilson's eyes widen before he closes them, relishing the sensation. It's odd, he thinks, to kiss a man— to kiss _House_. There's that stubble he never shaves off pressing against his chin, almost tickling him. He kisses him and he kisses him and he kisses him, like that's all he can do, and he finds himself putting his hands on both of House's sides, grabbing at his jacket gently.

When he pulls away, he's out of breath, pupils dilated as the reality of the situation dawns on him. He doesn't find himself filled with dread and panic like when he first realized Bonnie might've been right— he's not troubled by this realization now that House is smiling at him like that. All fear slips out of him, like a duck to water, when House smiles at him after kissing him, his eyes light like he's never seen them before.

He likes House. He's gay. It's okay. That's... okay, almost. The shame won't stop itself from coming to him in a few more hours, the need to go shower and scrub himself clean, but at least right now he's okay. He's not panicking, which is an upgrade from what he was like a while ago, right before coming into House's office.

"Thank you," Wilson says airily.

House smiles at him and gives him a coquettish tilt of his head. "You're welcome, handsome," he chirps.

That makes Wilson blush. Goddammit. "I should... call my ex-wives about this, probably."

"I mean," he says. "They're exes for a reason."

It makes sense, now that he thinks about it. Of course he only has commitment issues with women, but has managed to remain glued to House for nearly thirteen years now. God, he's a fucking idiot.

"Sure," he says. "But I'd like to tell Bonnie that she was right, at least. That'll give her something to mull over for a while."

"I did ruin your marriage with her, anyway," House says. "Or so I hear. Was so needy because of my leg that you forgot all about your wife."

Wilson blushes and stammers at that. "Well," he says. "Yeah, in part, I guess."

House smiles at him, smug. "I'm glad to see I'm a homewrecker." There's a long pause, and they just stare at each other. "What are we, then? Do you want to date me?"

"I mean," he says. "I do, but I want to... come to terms with the fact I'm gay first. Maybe afterward I'll date you." He swallows. "Is that alright?"

"Of course. Don't take too long to get over yourself, Jimmy." 

He rolls his eyes. "I'll try not to inconvenience you with my internalized homophobia," he says.

House huffs at him, and he walks out of his office. Almost as soon as he's out from House's sight he's filled with so much shame he can't breathe. He chokes on a sob and walks to the bathroom, trying to ignore the curious stares of the other people there as he goes to see himself in the mirror.

The realization finally hits him like a ton of bricks. He's _gay_.

"Fuck," he says under his breath, and the intern next to him nearly jumps at hearing Dr. James Wilson swear.

Before having to explain himself to anyone, he scurries out of the bathroom and into his office.

It's a strange situation to be in, he finds, to be aware of something he should've been aware of so long ago. He feels like there were clear _signs_ , signs no one called out— except for the offhand jokes that never stuck around because of the way he went through girlfriends with incredible ease. A gay man wouldn't be going out with girl after girl, right? Well, he did. It felt like it was what he had to do. And he loved some of them, or at least thought he did. There was something comforting in having someone's presence next to him in the morning, the other side of the bed warm. Even if it didn't feel _right_ , not at all.

He has to call Bonnie. That's the least he can do. He can shut up and not tell Julie or Sam, the wounds dealt by Sam too old and Julie's too new, but Bonnie was the one who _asked_ him. She deserves the satisfaction of knowing she was right. That her ex-husband did, in fact, fancy his best friend.

After work, he does exactly that, heading to his apartment and closing the door behind himself. He regards his phone with an air of panic, and he resists the urge to go take a long shower. He'll stay there for hours, get a horrible water bill at the end of the month from trying to scrub himself clean for something that he doesn't even find bad in other people. It's just him, specifically.

He sighs and goes to his contacts, calls Bonnie. 

"James?" her voice picks up from the other side of the line.

"Hi, Bonnie," he says. He swallows. "I wanted to, um, tell you something. I guess we could wait until we could meet up in person, but I'd much rather just get it over with."

Bonnie makes a noise of confusion. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm alright," he says. Is he? "I just... you remember how you asked me if I was gay?"

She lets out a little laugh. "Are you still hung up on that, James?" 

"No," he replies. "But I was— um. Long story short, you were right."

There's silence for a few long moments, and cold sweat creeps down Wilson's back.

"Bonnie?" he tries.

"Sorry," she says, letters blurring together. "I was — um — I was simply surprised, that's all. i wasn't expecting that. I'm happy for you, though." A pause. "I'm glad you uh, figured yourself out." Another pause. "Was the, uh, House part of that right too, or—?"

"Yeah," he admits. "It was right. I, uh, I kissed him. As it turns out, he's also into men, but didn't get a good, funny chance to tell me about it until I came out to him."

"Oh!" Bonnie sounds delighted. "I'm glad to hear that, James. I hope that you guys have like, a good relationship, you know?" A little nervous laugh leaves her. "I suspect your commitment issues won't be quite as big with him."

Wilson blushes at that. "Perhaps they won't be," he can't help but agree.

"Good luck, then," she says. "Are you going to tell Sam and Julie?"

"Maybe Sam," he says, rather noncommittally. "I'm not so sure about telling Julie. Just... it's too new, and she cheated on me, so, you know."

There's a voice at the back of his head that says _well, you had an emotional affair with House while Bonnie was at home_. Which he'd rather not think about, not when it's put like that. He didn't know it was an affair back then. Does it count, then? Does it really count?

"Yeah, I get that," Bonnie says. "I'm glad you trust me with this, James. I'm glad you came to accept yourself. I don't... _get_ it, I'm not a lesbian or anything, but if you want to talk about it you can talk to me about it, okay?"

Wilson smiles at that. "Of course, thank you, Bonnie. G'night."

"Good night, James," she says. "Sleep well."

After he hangs up, he gives up and goes to shower. He spends an inordinate amount of time there, beneath the water as it hits him, but he doesn't try to scrub himself clean. He manages to accept himself for who he is, and doesn't try to scrape the dirt out of his fingernails. Like there is any dirt there to begin with.

The next day, he goes over to House's office.

He leans in and pecks him on the lips, like it's routine. Like it's normal. 

"Wanna go watch monster trucks when possible?" he asks, smiling at him like he's all that matters in the world.

House smiles at him right back. If any of his employees is around, they must be more than confused.

"Of course," he says. "We can even do a romantic dinner afterward. I'm sure that's much more of your _thing_."

He laughs softly and kisses him again.

Yeah, maybe things will be okay. Maybe there's no dirt under his fingernails, waiting to be scraped out, after all. Maybe being who he is is perfectly clean.


End file.
